Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 16:57:28 +0100 (BST)
From: Scheherazade_79 <romantic_sunrise@yahoo.ie>
Subject: The Girl Next Door

Charlotte Cavendish hurried through the chill November air, head down and
shoulders hunched as she hugged the laundry bag tight to her body. It was
unseasonably cold and she couldn't get to her small apartment on the
Ku'damm quickly enough. Besides, at this time of night the streets of
Berlin were no place for a woman to be out alone. As she rounded a corner
the wind picked up, slicing through her thick overcoat and blowing a trail
of brittle leaves into her path. Instinctively, Charlotte stepped over them
and moved into the shadows of the walls.  In this day and age, it was
impossible to be too careful. But being attacked was the least of
Charlotte's worries. What no one would guess from her long dark hair and
perfect figure was that at 28, Charlotte Cavendish was trained to kill.

To those who knew her in the city she was Frau Schlussmeyer, the widow of a
high-ranking German officer who'd won the Iron Cross. She kept herself to
herself, but played the part well enough to secure a waitressing job at a
nearby bar. The fact it happened to be a favourite among Nazi officials was
certainly no accident. While Charlotte had an awareness of danger, she knew
no fear of it and throwing herself into the jaws of the beast was her
second nature. She'd been that way all her life, despite private schooling,
a Cambridge degree and the very best of her parents' efforts.

At the beginning of the war she'd leapt to join the Wrens, but soon became
bored and frustrated with the menial tasks she was given. As far as her
conduct around men was concerned, Charlotte more than lived up to the
organisation's ideal of the `perfect lady' -- but only because she had no
interest in the opposite sex at all. Instead, she embarked on a series of
passionate affairs with her female co-workers. Ratings, senior officers,
typists, and even an admiral's daughter -- when it came to beautiful women,
Charlotte always got what she wanted without fail.

For the most part, her Sapphic inclinations went by undetected, but it was
always too good to last forever. When the moment of her discovery came, she
went out in a blaze of glory with her tongue buried deep inside a pretty
young Wren's cunt -- all while her commanding officer looked on in horror.
It was agreed that both women should leave immediately. And as abruptly as
it began, so Charlotte's career ended.

Although the episode was kept quiet out of respect for the two families,
Charlotte knew that she needed to get away for a while. Without employment,
she was stuck on her father's Hertfordshire estate with nothing other than
her wild imagination to keep her occupied. She craved female company, but
more than anything else, she craved excitement and her independence. When
Churchill formed his taskforce of Special Operations Executives, Charlotte
was among the first to sign up.

It was dangerous work and her father objected strongly, but with her flair
for the German language and all its regional variations, she was a natural
candidate. After several months of intensive training, she was air-dropped
deep into the German countryside, completely alone for the first time in
her life. It wasn't her first time in the country. As a student she'd spent
almost every summer in Berlin, enjoying the progressive cultural scene and
frequenting almost every lesbian bar and club within the city boundaries.
But that was then, and this was now. One by one, all of her old flames and
acquaintances had stopped writing. Some had simply disappeared overnight,
others had emigrated and many more had just decided to conform, leaving the
past behind them and marrying men who'd never make them happy. The chances
of her being recognised were slim, but it still played heavily on her mind
that in this stifling atmosphere, she was as much the hunted as the
huntress.

She rounded a corner and heard gunshots echoing in the distance. It was a
familiar sound. She fumbled clumsily with the keys in the lock, cursing the
cold that had number her hands. A sharp click and she was in. No light
shone under the doors of the other tenants. It was only ten o'clock, but
everyone seemed to have given up on the day. Hardly surprising considering
the steadily decreasing rations. She crept up the stairs, avoiding the
creaky floorboard at the top, and let herself into her apartment.

Charlotte shot quick glance around the shadowy room. It was as she'd left
it. She crossed to the window and peered into the street below. Also
deserted. It was as well to be careful. During the spring of that year, an
SOE wireless operator had been captured in the Netherlands and within a
week, almost the entire network of Dutch agents had been ensnared. Losing
their military grip, the Nazis were compensating by tightening their hold
on the domestic front. How Charlotte had survived this long was a
combination of luck and her own awesome willpower.

She drew the blackout curtains and clicked on a dim bedside reading
lamp. Without even stopping to remove her coat, she tipped the contents of
the bag out onto the bed, sifting through them in search of anything
unusual. It had been weeks since she'd received any world from London. The
last communication had been just an acknowledgement of the work she'd
already done. One car bomb, four railway detonations and the theft of some
vital documents from a high ranking Nazi officer. It was a case of `Well
done, Charlotte,' -- then nothing further by way of guidance. She lived in
the hope that no news was good news, but couldn't quite shake the feeling
that somehow the transmissions were going astray. What she needed to know
was when to leave. According to city rumours, the Allies were planning a
massive bombing campaign. Hamburg had been bad enough, but if reports were
to be believed, it was nothing compared to the pounding that Germany's
capital was about to receive. Surely her bosses wouldn't leave her in a
city that was about to be razed to the ground?

Her fingers suddenly fell upon some papers and a rush of excitement went
through her. They seemed to be lots of them - glossy and unless Charlotte
was mistaken, bound firmly along one side. A magazine. Charlotte lifted it
up and smiled. Still nothing from England, but as far as continental
contraband was concerned, Ilka, her German wireless operator had
excelled. It was an explicit Dutch lesbian magazine filled from start to
finish with pictures of naked women -- twisted legs, smooth skin, rouged
lips and pussies that were filled with fingers and tongues.

She pushed the laundry off the bed and settled down with a cigarette, her
eyes losing focus as she gazed at the shots through the blue haze. The only
action Charlotte had seen since arriving in Berlin had been with Ilka. It
had filled the void but was far from satisfying - firstly, Ilka was a
curious, but reluctant married woman; secondly, she just didn't have the
temperament to be able to handle a livewire like Charlotte, and it wasn't
long before the passive and unimaginative housewife began to grate on her
nerves. She would never have admitted it in a million years, but Charlotte
craved women who gave her a run for her money. She was strong, but had a
deep-rooted desire to be tamed and swept off her feet. As Ilka showed no
potential for either, Charlotte soon dissolved their liaison on the grounds
that work and sex are never a good combination.

Charlotte turned through the pages slowly, totally absorbed by the images
in front of her. Judging by the dog ears, Ilka had taken a very good look
before passing it on. She smiled. There were women eating pussy in every
conceivable angle, even groups of them clustered around an individual,
spreading her open and examining her from all sides. Charlotte slid a hand
inside her panties and instantly found her throbbing clit. It was larger
than most she'd seen and easily aroused. A quick stroke and her finger
travelled down towards her entrance. She was already soaked.

On an impulse, she began tearing off her clothes, tugging at them hard and
scattering them on the floor around her. Her bed became a frenzy of
movement. First came her coat, then her shoes. Her blouse was next and then
her skirt -- until all that stood between her and total nudity was a red
bra and matching pair of satin French knickers. In her hurry to remove
them, Charlotte's elbow accidentally caught the small table lamp. There was
a loud crash and then darkness.

"Shit!" she whispered, annoyed with herself for not having more
self-control.

A faint cough came from the apartment next to her. Charlotte froze.
Evidently someone was still awake. Another cough followed by the sound of a
chair being dragged across the tiles. It was Fraulein Westerfeld -- about
whom Charlotte knew almost nothing. Since arriving, Charlotte had made a
point of getting to know absolutely everyone who lived in the block. It
wasn't out of friendliness -- although Charlotte had a natural charm that
was hard to resist. To her, the people all around her -- the railway
workers, war wives, shopkeepers, factory staff -- were all cogs in a bigger
machine. Knowing them and using them to the best of her means was
Charlotte's job. Gabriele Westerfeld, however, remained a total enigma. She
was a blonde thirty-something with piercing blue eyes, who lived directly
next to Charlotte, but kept herself to herself. She didn't work; neither
did she have any visitors. There were some who swore she was a writer, and
others who claimed she was a disinherited duchess gone mad. But in the
spirit of the age, no one dared question her directly. Besides, there was
something about Fraulein Westerfeld that almost defied snooping. It was
ironic. Of all the people Charlotte knew in Berlin, it was the girl next
door whom she knew least of all.

Cutting her losses, Charlotte spread her legs out across the bed and ran
her fingers over her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard, and grew harder
by the second under her touch. She was beginning to squirm, the firm
muscles of her ass grinding hard against the sheets. She needed release,
she needed to --

Charlotte leapt out of her skin as she heard a sharp rap on her door.  "Who
is it?"

"Fraulein Westerfeld. May I come in, Frau Schlussmeyer?"  Charlotte
hesitated. Now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she spotted
several things among her laundry pile that shouldn't be seen - among them a
Walther P38 and a small cache of bullets.

"I'm in bed!"

"Oh... I just wanted a small word."  The disappointment in her voice sounded
genuine, and eventually Charlotte's curiosity got the better of her.

"Hold on," she muttered, leaping to her feet and throwing on a silk robe. A
small word? At this time of night? The woman was probably just crazy. A
recluse who only decided to talk when people had gone to bed. She really
needed to watch her step if that was the case. The Nazis had eliminated her
kind from the Aryan race a long time ago.

She wrapped up the items in her clean bed linen, and kicked them under the
bed. Flooding the room with light from the overhead, Charlotte opened the
door slowly and peered into the hallway.

"May I come in?"  Despite the lateness of the hour, Gabriele Westerfeld was
fully dressed to kill in a red evening dress and heels that added at least
another two inches to her towering figure. Her blonde hair was swept back
off her face into an immaculate French plait and her make-up seemed fresh.


"Yes -- sorry, I forgot myself. Please come in. Is there a problem?"
Charlotte felt herself being looked up and down by her neighbour. Brazen at
the best of times she coloured up immediately under the cold stare,
becoming acutely aware of her untidy hair, the telltale flush across her
cheeks, and the haphazard way in which she'd draped the robe around her. As
a gust blew in from the hallway, Charlotte realised that the top of her
left breast was exposed. She moved away quickly, turning to the wall as she
adjusted the material. It may have been her imagination, but even with her
back turned, Charlotte could feel Fraulein Westerfeld's blue eyes burning
into her.

"I heard a noise," she began coldly, "I also know that you came in very
late tonight and on several other nights."  Charlotte strengthened her
resolve. It was the moment she'd been both dreading and preparing for since
she'd arrived in Berlin.

"I am a trained nurse, Fraulein Westerfeld. There are men out there
dying. Were it not for my husband's express wishes, I'd be out there on the
battlefield a long time ago. I do what I can. The wounded are being brought
home in their hundreds. Our boys. So I break the curfew. I work nights at a
field hospital at Charlottenburg, and to hell with anyone who tries telling
me I shouldn't!"  Inwardly, Charlotte smiled. She had almost convinced
herself. Gabriele Westerfeld took a step back and gazed at a distant point
in the room. After an awkward silence, she cleared her throat.


"I beg your pardon, Frau Schlussmeyer. I just was just concerned..."
Charlotte held her indignation well, but could hardly have been prepared
for what the woman suggested next.  "... There are so many war widows in
Berlin these days. A woman has to get by any way she can -- and with so
many soldiers in the vicinity..." Gabi's voice trailed off again, allowing
what was left unsaid to echo around the apartment

"Fraulein Westerfeld, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting,
then I'd like you to leave immediately," said Charlotte, suddenly fighting
the urge to laugh. Her neighbour's face, on the other hand, was
expressionless.

"No shame in it at all. We all get lonely from time to time, but evidently
I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I'd like you to accept my apology."

"Quite."

"Please -- call me Gabi." Gabriele extended her hand and Charlotte reached
out to take it. It was ice cold, but as their fingers touched, small bolts
of electricity rushed through Charlotte's spine.

"Charlotte," she blustered by way of introduction, taking care to pronounce
the e at the end in the German way. Ilka usually abbreviated it to Lotta.

Gabi's grip was firm and unless Charlotte's imagination was playing tricks
on her, lasted quite a while longer than was necessary. The blonde's eyes
were again locked on her, and for the first time in the presence of another
woman, Charlotte felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well, I should probably sleep..." she began with an unusual shyness, "It's
late, and I have work tomorrow..." Gabi raised her eyebrows in mock
annoyance.

 "I've been chatting with my neighbour for less than two minutes and
already she wants to go to bed?"  Charlotte had no idea whether the pun was
intentional or not, but it filled her mind with a series of erotic images
that made her want to go back to what she'd been doing before the
interruption. Gabriele Westerfeld was a striking woman. She rivalled
Charlotte in height, but possessed a frame that was altogether more
solid. She was in peak physical condition and carried herself more with the
grace of an athlete than a single woman in a war torn city.

This time it was Charlotte's turn to stare. She took in the high cheekbones
and firm jaw line of her neighbour. Gabriele Westerfeld was the definitive
Aryan beauty, strong, elegant, but cold to the point of being unobtainable.
Charlotte struggled with herself and failed. Within a couple of seconds,
her eyes descended lower -- over the woman's neck, over her collar bones,
over her chest... until they were fixed on a pair of firm breasts... so
enticing, so touchable, so kissable... What in hell was she thinking?!

"Maybe we could meet tomorrow?" suggested Charlotte, snapping out of her
trance and running her tongue across her dry lips. Despite her attempts to
conceal it, there was a slightly breathless quality to her voice. Gabi
nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Then I invite you over for afternoon tea at my place tomorrow -- three
o'clock sharp."  Charlotte nodded. It was all she could do without giving
the game away entirely. Once her neighbour had departed, she closed the
door behind her feeling slightly shaken -- as though Gabriele Westerfeld
had intruded upon a lot more than her homestead.

The following morning came all too quickly. Charlotte was woken by the
sound of bells ringing from the nearby Kaiser Wilhelm church and a steady
stream of people on the street outside. Sunday - and for Charlotte
especially, it was a time to pray. As she packed her bag and pulled on some
clothes, the events of the previous night seemed a world away. Realising
the importance of being on the ball the next day, Charlotte had sacrificed
her urges and turned in for the night almost straight after Gabi left. It
was only now that she noticed her prized magazine lying out in full few in
the middle of the floor. There was no way that her neighbour could have
missed it. It was unfortunate, but at this moment in time Charlotte was far
too busy to care.

She must have checked the contents of her bag at least a dozen times before
leaving her apartment. Charlotte was never normally like this and it
bothered her. What she had in store for today was just a walk in the park,
courtesy of a loose lipped Nazi officer who'd become enamoured with her in
the bar. Her sources were reliable and her planning, as always, had been
meticulous. But Charlotte still felt nervous. She had no idea why, but it
was almost as though Gabi Westerfeld's visit had unsettled her very core.

As Charlotte stepped out into the street, the relief in the air was
noticeable. Berlin had survived yet another night unscathed, and through
the exhaustion shone a quiet defiance in the faces of those around her. She
waited in the swirling mist for a while, stamping her feet from the cold
and impatience. She had a long distance to cover in the space of three
hours - several changes of tram until she reached the north-westernmost tip
of the city boundary, and then at least an hour's walk into the surrounding
countryside. She'd be cutting it fine to get back to Gabi Westerfeld's by
three... She cursed herself silently. That woman again.

Charlotte battled to regain her focus, and luckily it wasn't long before a
tram rattled around the corner. She boarded it and stared blankly out of
the window as the streets blurred past her and the minutes ticked by. There
were plenty of other people on board, but no one was talking or even
looking in her direction. A wave of loneliness suddenly engulfed
Charlotte. She had no one in the city she could call a friend, much less a
lover.  She bit her lip to stop the emotion from pouring out. It had to be
over soon. Even the Germans were beginning to admit it behind closed
doors. The Reich simply had too many enemies on too many fronts. It was
just a matter of time. Within a year she'd probably be back at home, making
love to some wild English beauty in the meadows, drinking champagne and
living in luxury. This was the one time of her life when she could make a
difference, and she wasn't about to turn her back on it just yet.

By the time Charlotte stepped off the final tram, everything seemed
possessed a slightly surreal edge. The mist was finally beginning to lift,
leaving behind a damp and stagnant landscape. She was in a run-down
residential area with neat lawns and windows as far as the eye could
see. It was a ripe hunting ground for curtain-twitchers, and Charlotte's
pace quickened. The less time she spent out in the open, the better -- and
just to make sure, she intended to get home via a completely different tram
stop.

She headed for an expanse of green at the end of the street. It was the end
of Berlin and, because no established road lead from it, one of the few
city exits where a checkpoint hadn't been set up. Just as well, because a
baggage search was the last thing Charlotte needed right now. Considering
the contents of her bag, she'd be lucky if she ever made it as far as the
concentration camp. It was a long hike before she reached the railway
tracks, and by the time they were in sight she had broken into a sweat. She
glanced at her watch -- ten minutes before the freight train laden with
supplies for the Eastern Front would come rumbling through. Plenty of time.

She knelt beside her bag, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she took
out what she needed. Shooting quick glances in every direction, she worked
quickly, assembling the bomb with the precision of an artist. Charlotte had
done it so many times before that she could afford to be vigilant, which
was as well in this heavily wooded area.

A final twist of the dial, and she was ready to go. She pressed a cool hand
against the steel tracks. There it was - the distant rumble of the
approaching train. It seemed to be on time, and so far everything was going
according to plan. The trick now was to get as far away as possible from
the scene of her crime.  She walked briskly, synchronising her seconds with
those on the timer.  Four minutes... She was doing well. She ducked into a
grove of trees and continued her passage southbound.  Three minutes...
There was the low hum of a train engine in the distance, and her heartbeat
quickened.  Two minutes... With an empty bag, even the most rigorous SS
inspection would have a hard time coming up with incriminating evidence.
She was on the verge of feeling invincible. One minute... There was a sharp
crack behind her, and Charlotte span round.  Nothing. It was definitely the
sound of a dry branch snapping, but there was no one else around. It was
probably a squirrel, or a fox, or even a stray dog from the suburbs. It
still sounded uncomfortably close.  Thirty seconds... The train was
approaching and the suspense building.  Fifteen seconds... Time for her to
turn around and continue with her route.  Ten seconds... Five seconds -
each one seeming to last an age.  Three... Two... One...

The sky suddenly lit up in a blaze of light, and there was an explosion
that that shattered the peace of the countryside. The ground shook and
brakes screeched. Several smaller blasts followed, sending smoke billowing
over the hillside. Without warning, Charlotte felt a heavy weight against
her back. It caught her off-balance and sent her reeling forwards. She hit
the ground head first and saw stars. Strong hands were now pinning her down
in the mud, wrestling her wrists from under her. She had to do something!

Using the last ounce of strength that she had, Charlotte lashed back at her
attacker. Her knuckles slammed against a smooth jaw and, making the most of
her attacker's surprise, she stumbled to her feet and began to run.
Brambles tore at her bare legs as she hurtled through the fields and back
towards the city. It was over an hour before she even dared to slow down
and look back. When she did, she realised that she'd made it. Not another
soul was in sight.

Leaving Berlin was now her only option. It had been interesting, it had
been exciting, but now the adventure was over. There were plenty of other
places she could go -- France, the Netherlands, or even a low-risk desk job
back in England should the mood take her. Charlotte wiped the mud from her
face with the back of her hand, but felt far from satisfied. Apart from
anything else, she had no idea where she was -- only that it was far from
the neighbourhood through which she'd passed earlier.

As she made her way to a lonely tram stop, Charlotte tried to reason her
way through the events. There was no way she'd been followed. If that were
the case she would have been stopped and arrested before she'd even set the
timer. No, Charlotte had been caught by chance - probably an off-duty SS
officer who just happened to be taking a walk in the wrong place at the
wrong time. It was unlucky, but far stranger things had happened.  For the
time being, however, she was reasonably safe. Eventually she'd need to get
out, but it was pointless trying for at least another night or two. When
news of this reached the authorities there was bound to be heightened
security at all the main routes leading out of the city. Whichever way
Charlotte looked at it, it made sense to stay -- not least because of her
sudden interest in her neighbour.

By the time she got back, it was already beginning to get dark. Charlotte
glanced at her watch. It was nearly five and the day had all but
evaporated. She felt a pang of guilt as she passed her neighbour's door,
but had no intention of knocking on it until she'd tidied herself up. As
soon as she was in her apartment Charlotte headed straight for the
bathroom.  She needed a long hot soak to wash away her stressful day and
lay in the steaming tub for well over an hour. Her entire body ached. Her
shoulders were tense, her back sore and her head pounding with a dull
ache. Suddenly remembering her fall, she put a hand to her forehead and
swore as a drop of blood appeared on her fingertips.

"Shit!"  She pulled the plug, rose to her feet and leaned forward to wipe
condensation from the mirror. Slowly, her face came into focus and she
caught sight of a small gash that ran for about an inch above her eyebrow.
The whole area around it was bruised and swollen to the point where it
couldn't be concealed by her hair. She dabbed a little foundation around
the edges, but no matter how hard she tried there could be no hiding the
fact that she'd met with some kind of mishap. She leapt, startled as there
was a sudden knock at the door.

"Charlotte? Hello? It's Gabriele."  Shit again. She heard the front door
open and close. Her neighbour had let herself in and was now advancing
towards the bathroom.  "Are you in there?"

"Yes..." muttered Charlotte, throwing a small towel around her and racking
her brains for a way out of the situation.

"Had you forgotten about our date?"  It was an odd way to describe their
afternoon meeting, but Charlotte was too flustered to even notice.

"No, Gabi. I've just been at the hospital all day. Need to get a change of
clothes, then I promise I'll be with you."  Silence.

"You sound stressed, Charlotte. Is everything ok?"  Charlotte hesitated.
She was bound to notice sooner or later.

"Well, not really. I slipped while I was in the shower and hit my head. I
think I'll be ok, but..." she opened the bathroom door and poked her head
outside, "As you can see, it's left quite a mark."  Gabi's eyes widened.
She'd never been one to show her emotions openly, but on this occasion she
had no control of the matter.

"Charlotte!" she gasped, "You must sit down immediately! That is really
terrible!"  Weakening from the sympathy, Charlotte allowed herself to be
guided to one of the armchairs.  "You look as white as a ghost. Please, let
me fetch you some brandy. I insist."  Gabriele Westerfeld left and then
returned, brandishing a bottle of vintage Armagnac. It was hardly something
that an average Berliner would have in her kitchen, but Charlotte was too
overwhelmed by the occasion to ask questions. She accepted a generous
measure and sipped at it slowly, the fiery liquid setting her throat ablaze
as it slipped down.

"Better?" Gabi asked with an expression of real concern.

"It's been a tiring day," replied Charlotte after a lengthy pause.

"I can imagine," observed the blonde with the faintest hint of irony, "You
really should do something to get the swelling down, though... Here, allow
me..." She disappeared into the bathroom and returned seconds later with a
face cloth soaked with cold water. Charlotte reached out to accept it, but
Gabi made no move to hand it over, instead positioning herself on the arm
of the chair and taking on the task herself. She was surprisingly gentle.
Charlotte had never seen her as the nurturing type, but as Gabi dabbed
lightly at the corners of the wound, she felt her breathing becoming deeper
and the tension draining from her muscles.

"You should really make more time for yourself, schatz..." whispered Gabi,
noticing the thin lines of exhaustion around Charlotte's eyes "You work all
day, work all night. When do you get time to relax?"  Charlotte stared at
the floor. Having lived on the edge for so long, sympathy was the last
thing she needed. Any more of it and she knew she'd crumble.  "Just sit
quietly for a second."  The damp cloth was placed on a nearby table, and
Gabriele's hands suddenly slid onto her shoulders. Charlotte shivered. They
felt good -- firm and completely in control of the proceedings.

Soon she began a deep massage, stroking and squeezing Charlotte's shoulder
muscles until her entire body became limp.  "There... That's better. Just
breathe deeply and enjoy the feeling... Good..." Charlotte could feel
Gabi's breath on her cheek and closed her eyes as the words washed around
her. The more she relaxed the looser the towel became around her chest. It
was beginning to slide down, bit by bit exposing the dark crease of her
cleavage.  She reached up to pull it back into place, but Gabriele caught
her hand.  "Shhhh... Just relax and go with it."  Charlotte's hand fell
back onto her lap while Gabi resumed her massage, her long, expert fingers
reaching lower over Charlotte's chest.

After what seemed like an age of gentle stroking, Charlotte suddenly found
her neighbour's face just millimetres from her own.

"Would you let me give you a proper massage?"  Charlotte could hardly
believe her ears, but found herself nodding her head, powerless under her
neighbour's touch.  "Good... then why don't we move somewhere a little more
comfortable. The bedroom perhaps?"  Charlotte rose to her feet and as she
did so, noticed a dark bruise along Gabi's jaw line. She wanted to ask and
show the same degree of concern and compassion that her neighbour had shown
her, but was too deep in her trance to find the words. Her legs felt weak
from the miles of running, but there was something else that was making
them weaker still. It was the same something else that was causing her
pussy muscles to tighten and clit to throb in inexplicable desire.

When they reached the darkened bedroom, Charlotte stood uncertainly by the
bed, not knowing quite what to do. It was a complete and utter reversal of
roles. Usually she was the seductress -- the strong, sexual woman enjoying
her lover melt before her. She was always the instigator. She called the
shots and let the events unfold at her pace. Never the other way round --
until now.

Gabi appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light in the hallway as she
looked Charlotte up and down.

"Well, well, well, Frau Schlussmeyer," she began, a faint smile on her
face, "I never had you down as being shy."  Charlotte blushed a deep pink.

"I could work around the towel if you really wanted..." But it wasn't what
Charlotte wanted. Never one to be beaten or to lose a dare, she untangled
the top of the towel and let it drop to her feet.  Gabi didn't as much as
blink.

Giving up on any kind of reaction, Charlotte got onto the bed and settled
onto her stomach. She waited for her visitor to make her way over, but Gabi
simply stood there watching intently. The silence seemed to stretch out for
an eternity until she heard slow footsteps and felt a weight on the bed
next to her. Gabriele began slowly, brushing Charlotte's hair to one side
until the back of her neck was exposed. She placed her hands along it
gently and began a slow massage that had Charlotte in quiet ecstasy.

"Does that feel good?" she whispered.

"Wonderful... absolutely wonderful..." And it did. Charlotte was losing
herself by the second to this strong German woman. When Gabi's hands slid
once more onto her shoulders, Charlotte began to drift off.

"Do you know, there's something I've been meaning to say since last night
--" Charlotte came back down to earth slowly.

"What?"

"Just that maybe you should take a little more care when it comes to the
storage of your reading material. You never know who might turn up on your
doorstep."  Charlotte became tense, but the deep rhythmic massage
continued. So Gabriele Westerfeld had noticed the magazine that had fallen
onto the floor. Paranoia soon began to gnaw at her. What else had this
woman noticed? She'd already commented on the late nights.

"It's OK. I have no problem with it," she continued, "No problem at
all. But I know of many people who would..." Charlotte braced herself for
what was going to come next.  "To be honest with you, the fact that you had
it at all suggests that you're probably mixing with the wrong kind of
people -- and I'm not even an expert in these matters, just the girl next
door."  The girl next door -- what a misnomer. Gabriele Westerfeld was
anything but ordinary and an inner turmoil raged inside Charlotte, desire
and caution pulling her in opposite directions. As Gabi searched out the
tense muscles of her lower back, Charlotte found herself surrendering to
the situation. So her neighbour had discovered she was a lesbian -- so
what? If it had bothered her, she would have tipped off the SS a long time
ago. She was home, but not exactly dry as Gabriele's hands slid further
down her back.

When she reached Charlotte's waist, Gabi moved to the end of the bed and
took hold of one of her feet. She took her time in massaging each toe,
kneading deep into the sole of Charlotte's foot and then higher up her
leg. When Charlotte's calf muscles became putty in her hands, she moved up
higher still. Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed her neighbour to do as
she pleased.

The fingers snaked their way upwards with agonising slowness, brushing
softly against the sensitive inside of Charlotte's thigh. Gabi knew exactly
what she was doing -- of that, there could be no mistake. When she reached
the top, however, less than an inch from Charlotte's burning pussy, she
stopped.

"Of course, I noticed there was something unusual about you from the day
you moved in..." Charlotte was given barely any time to respond to this as
Gabi's hand descended to her other foot. It was relaxing, for sure -- but
from the beginning there had been something about this woman's touch and
her behaviour in general that suggested she had been planning the moment
for quite some time.

"You're a very beautiful woman," she continued, her hands sliding up over
Charlotte's calf, "And you make friends easily. But no boyfriends... no
gentleman-callers. If it weren't for the moans I hear late into the night,
I'd think that you had no sexual urges at all."

Gabi was working faster, almost as though her fingers couldn't wait to
reach the place they'd been just a couple of minutes ago. A thin trickle of
moisture escaped from Charlotte's pussy, glistening as it ran down the top
of her thigh. Gabi's fingers were close behind it. She separated her hands
so that one was on each of Charlotte's thighs, then inched them up slowly
until they were nestled under the firm cheeks of her buttocks. She pressed
her thumbs in and then pulled them apart so that Charlotte's pussy
stretched open. Charlotte gave a low moan.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you filthy whore!" Gabriele kept her
fingers in place, squeezing in with her nails so that the pain forced the
woman in front of her to spread her legs wider.  "A horny lesbian bitch,"
she continued, the malice growing in her voice, "Living right on my
doorstep. Right next door to me! Right under my nose! How brazen can you
be? But I forget -- brazen is your style, isn't it, Charlotte Cavendish?"
Charlotte leapt, but the grip on her legs was unrelenting. The more she
struggled the less she found herself able to as the thumbs suddenly found
her soft outer lips and began stroking her into submission. Charlotte felt
another wave of wetness escape from her pussy. There was no way that Gabi
could fail to notice it. It was probably flowing over her thumbs, inviting
them to slide deep inside her and give her the hard fucking that she
needed.

The teasing might have gone on a lot longer had it not been for the wail
that suddenly shattered the Sunday peace. The air raid siren. Both women
froze. It could have been a false alarm, but in light of the rumours that
had been circulating for the past few weeks, it seemed highly
unlikely. This was it. Berlin was about to be blitzed and Charlotte had no
way of escape.

On the street below, there was chaos. Mothers running with screaming
babies, pensioners being ushered out of their homes with little ceremony,
cars honking their way through the bedlam, and a lone blackout warden
fighting a losing battle. Soon the drone of aircraft became audible. There
must have been hundreds swooping down towards the Reich capital with their
deadly cargo. Lights flashed in the distance and the staccato rattle of
anti-aircraft fire pierced the sky.

"We need to get out!" began Charlotte, taking advantage of her captor's
astonishment to escape from the bed. She pulled on a pair of slacks and
snatched at a nearby blouse. Gabi was unfazed.

"And where do you propose to run, English slut? Do you really think I've
kept this information to myself? There are photos of you circulating every
shelter and every check point in Berlin."  Charlotte's body was still
reeling from her neighbour's touch, but her head was issuing different
orders. All this time, she'd been living next door to a Gestapo officer,
and a highly trained one at that. Her cover had been blown and if the bombs
didn't kill her then the authorities certainly would. Charlotte had nothing
to lose because she'd lost it already. She felt beaten and as always the
feeling was accompanied by a flash of recklessness.

She looked over at Gabi and advanced slowly. Gabi didn't move. Neither did
she move when Charlotte's face was almost touching hers. They looked into
each other's eyes and a million words passed unspoken between them. Gently
their lips touched. What came of it was a kiss that shook both of their
foundations. It was slow, it was seductive and while it took place time
stood still.

Both women were brought back down to earth by a loud rumble that caused the
floor to shake and a shower of plaster to pour down from the ceiling.

"You're right," said Gabi, clutching at the bed frame to keep her balance,
"We need to leave!"  They left the apartment and hared down the
stairwell. Through small tears in the blackout curtains they could see the
fires raging in the city, and still the bombs rained down. There was a
deafening boom in the street outside, which threw both women off their
feet. Another shower of dust as large cracks appeared in the walls. The
building began to groan.

"Come on! The basement!"  Charlotte dragged Gabi up by the hand and they
made their way down the final flight of stairs, hurling themselves through
the small door at the bottom. Suddenly everything was pitch-black, and it
was several seconds before their eyes grew accustomed to the
light. Although the bombing hadn't stopped, it seemed to be taking place
further away now towards the Lichtenburg district. The seconds ticked by as
their breathing slowed down. After a while, Gabi broke the silence.

"Why did you stop to help me back there? I'm your enemy, if you haven't
forgotten."

"For the same reason I kissed you -- and the same reason you gave me that
massage," replied Charlotte, looked the woman directly in the eye,

"Which is?" Gabi's voice had become husky. She knew exactly what it was,
but she needed to hear it.

"Because we're just two women caught on opposite sides of the fence. If
things were different..." Charlotte's voice trailed off. She didn't want to
say the words.

"I want them to be different -- here, in this room right now."  Gabi
suddenly threw her arms around Charlotte, finding her lips in an
instant. There was hunger in the kiss as their tongues collided and twisted
against each other over and over again until the two women became lost in
each other.

 It wasn't long before Charlotte's hands descended on her neighbour's
breasts. It was hard to feel all that much through the restrictive
corselet, but the growing firmness of Gabi's nipples was unmistakable. Now
taking the weight of both breasts in her hands, Charlotte began squeezing
gently, grazing her thumbs across Gabi's nipples and enjoying the forbidden
sensation.

Suddenly having enough of the restrictions of clothing, Charlotte reached
down to the hemline of the blonde's dress and began pulling it up slowly,
marveling at each new millimeter of skin that was revealed. Gabriele
Westerfeld had a body to die for. When the dress had been rolled to an
obscene position somewhere around her waist, Gabi took over, lifting it
over her head and throwing it to one side.

"Now you..." she whispered, her breathing slightly ragged, "I want you as
you were before."  Charlotte began unbuttoning her blouse, but was simply
too slow for her neighbour. Pushing Charlotte's hands out of the way, Gabi
caught hold of the garment and ripped it down the centre, sending buttons
flying like confetti to the ground. Her lips were upon Charlotte's nipples
in an instant, kissing, sucking, licking and devouring until the reckless
British agent felt that she'd pass out from pleasure.

For a few moments, she simply held Gabi's head to her breasts, willing the
blonde to keep working her spell and drive her into a slow deep orgasm with
her tongue. But Charlotte wasn't one to be submissive for long. Gabi's
corselet was beginning to annoy her. She wanted to be touching that
beautiful body before her and enjoying it with no restriction. Daunted but
far from beaten, Charlotte reached behind Gabi's back and began untying the
stubborn fastenings.

As though prompted by her neighbour's boldness, Gabi caught hold of the
waistband of Charlotte's trousers and pulled them down. Now naked, both
women stopped and admired one another. Without saying a word, Charlotte
reached forwards once again to take one of Gabi's breasts. Her lips wrapped
themselves around the dusky nipples breathing another sigh as she did
so. This was what she'd wanted to do from the moment she set eyes on her
neighbour's ample chest, and the sensation was more than living up to her
expectations.

After a short while Gabi's fingers came to rest on Charlotte's head, but
instead of drawing her in closer, they started to force her head
down. Slowly but surely, Charlotte sank to her knees, allowing her tongue
to trail its way down over the blonde's creamy skin. She paused for a
moment on Gabi's navel, allowing her tongue to sink into the small
groove. It was blindingly obvious where this one was going, and both women
knew it would only be a matter of time before Charlotte's tongue was buried
in a much sweeter place.

Charlotte had eaten out women before. In fact, she liked to think of it as
her pastime. But never in her life had she eaten pussy with this degree of
intensity or lust. What made it all the more pleasurable was that Gabriele
Westerfeld shaved her pussy bald. As Charlotte glanced down she was able to
see the outline of her engorged lips, slightly larger than average and more
tempting than any she'd ever seen. She dipped her tongue between them and
withdrew it just as quickly. It was a tease. She knew her neighbour was on
the edge and wanted to make the moment last as long as possible. She slid
her tongue in again, and this time Gabi moaned loudly. Charlotte was amazed
at how wet the woman had become. Hungry for more of the sensuous juices,
she began to lick along the centre of Gabi's slit, allowing her tongue to
go everywhere apart from the one place her lover desired it most.

"Please... Charlotte..." Gabi's voice was beginning to falter. Charlotte drew
back again and then plunged her tongue deep inside. The force of it caused
Gabi to take a step back and Charlotte delighted in the fact that her
neighbour's pussy was now open even wider. She thrust her tongue in again,
this time allowing to linger inside the softness of Gabi's pussy, drinking
in her wetness and the musky smell of arousal that was all around her. As
she glanced up, she saw Gabi looking down at her, watching in shock as her
cunt was being invaded by an expert tongue.

Slowly, Charlotte withdrew, allowing only the tip of her tongue to stay in
contact. She couldn't get enough of the sweetness that was coating her
lips. She needed more and that was precisely what she was going to
get. Moving her hands between Gabi's legs, Charlotte caught hold of her
lips and spread them apart. She held them in that position for a while,
teasing her neighbour by blowing lightly against her clit and watching it
throb.

Until this point Gabi's hands had been resting limply on Charlotte's head,
but as her desire grew she began drawing the girl in to her, desperate to
find her release. She found it the second Charlotte's lips clamped around
her clit. True to form, Charlotte sucked her to one orgasm after another,
her tongue moving wildly over the swollen nub until it felt like the woman
would collapse. Repositioning her hands to stabilise her partner, Charlotte
then drove her tongue with force deep into the entrance of her neighbour's
pussy. Gabi's back arched as her body was wracked by a final
earth-shattering orgasm. Her juices flowed past Charlotte tongue directly
into her mouth. Charlotte was in seventh heaven.

"Enough!"  Gabi's entire body was trembling as she pushed Charlotte's head
away. Charlotte rose unsteadily to her feet, expecting to see her lover
burst into tears or at least fall into her arms, but although ruffled
Gabriele Westerfeld was composed as always, weighing up the situation and
plotting her next move.  "Lean over the table," she ordered, wiping the
sweat from her brow. Charlotte was about to question her. Everything down
here was filthy and covered in decades of dust and grime. But one stern
look from the blonde was all that was necessary to make her comply.

The table was old and littered with unwanted furnishings -- a mouldy lamp
cover, some old newspapers, a bicycle wheel and even a couple of mottled
feather boas left over from the roaring twenties. Charlotte swept them off
the table and leaned over it, feeling more than a little apprehensive of
what was to come. It was perfectly justified. No sooner had Gabi noticed
the boas, they were tied firmly around Charlotte's wrists and secure to the
furthest legs of the table. In this position, Charlotte was completely
sprawled out over the wooden trestles, her feet barely touching the floor
on the opposite side. Gabriele moved close to her again.

"You eat pussy superbly," she commented, running her tongue down the side
of Charlotte's neck, "But now it's your turn."  She vanished from
Charlotte's line of vision, leaving the Brit with a stomach full of
butterflies. No one had ever just taken her like this before and as the
seconds ticked by, Charlotte's heart began to pound. She felt a sharp kick
to her ankle and instinctively moved her leg out further. Another kick to
the other ankle, and she was left with her legs spread wide. A cool hand
suddenly made contact with her butt, stroking it gently, but when Charlotte
made an effort to look behind her, it cracked down hard on her tender
skin. Charlotte gave a cry of alarm.

"Please don't struggle, schatz," said Gabi in a dangerously measured tone,
"I tied you up for a reason and I want you to keep looking forwards."
Charlotte bit her lip and stuck out her jaw in determination. It was an
obscene position. Her cunt was completely on display for this woman, but in
a perverse way she found herself actually enjoying the humiliation.

Soon Charlotte felt warm skin and flesh pressing up against her. Gabi had
moved so close that her pussy was resting up against the moaning brunette's
ass. Charlotte could feel everything from the slick juices rubbing against
her skin to the pulsating clit that was still hungry for more. Gabi shifted
her position a little, placing her hands around Charlotte's hips for extra
support and then grinding hard against her astonished lover. Charlotte
almost stopped breathing. What Gabi was doing broke all her beliefs about
lesbian love. Until now, it had been synonymous with consensual giving and
receiving and the warmth that two women got from it. At this moment in
time, however, Gabriele Westerfeld seemed to be using Charlotte's body for
her own personal pleasure. What made it all the more surprising was that
Charlotte was enjoying every second of it.

As Gabi found her rhythm, Charlotte became aware that the hands were moving
lower down her stomach. Soon, one outstretched finger had worked its way
between her swollen lips and found her clit. She gasped as the finger began
a slow circling motion. After a while, the finger was joined by two more --
this time at the entrance of her pussy. They lingered for a split second
before plunging deep inside her all the way up to the knuckle. Charlotte's
cries were answered only the insertion of a third finger, then a
fourth. She felt stretched to her limits, but could do nothing but submit
to the feelings of bliss coming from between her legs. Gabriele's cunt was
still jammed against her ass and beginning to release a slow stream of
wetness that was now trickling down Charlotte's thighs. With the fingers
pumping inside her and steady massaging of her clit, she was approaching an
orgasm far deeper and stronger than she had ever experienced before.

"Cum for me!" ordered Gabriele, her voice tight from the strain of holding
in her own orgasm, "I want you to cum all over my fingers so that I can
taste you when I lick them."  Charlotte's pussy began to spasm.  "Oh yes! I
want to feel your orgasm exploding inside you, and I'm not going to stop
fucking that horny little cunt of yours until you're spent. I want every
last drop of your cum..." Charlotte didn't hear the rest. As wave after wave
of orgasm swept through her body, vivid colours began to flash in front of
her eyes. Her body rose and fell, and rose and fell so many times that she
lost count. Her cries of ecstasy were joined by Gabi's as another flood of
wetness came gushing over her ass.

When there are opened her eyes, her wrists had been untied and she was
lying peacefully across the table. A few more seconds as her eyes became
accustomed to the light once more. The room seemed to be empty -- at least
at first glance.

"The bombing is over."  Charlotte turned around and saw Gabi sitting on the
floor behind her, her dress pulled loosely over her head once more, but the
corselet abandoned. Charlotte moved stiffly off the table and faced her.
"That was magnificent, schatz..." whispered Gabi in a voice that sounded as
though it wanted to say a lot more.

"Yes... it was."  Charlotte was usually good with words, but for the first
time in her life could think of nothing to say. It would have been the
relationship made in heaven under any other circumstances, but for now both
the time and setting were wrong, "What now?"

"There is no photo," stated Gabi after an awkward silence, "There never was
a photo or a warrant. You'd given me the slip once when you punched me in
the jaw -- I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't do it again."  Charlotte
stared at the ground.  "Your best bet is to leave now while the city's
infrastructure is in chaos. Now is your best chance, Charlotte. Leave while
you still can."

Feeling unusually emotional, Charlotte put on her clothes quickly and
avoided all eye-contact with the German. Gabriele was right -- staying in a
city under siege would have been madness, but it still didn't make her
decision any the easier.

"So that's that..." began Charlotte as soon as she was dressed. Gabi stared
directly back at her, a sudden softness to her eyes. Further words
unnecessary, the women found themselves kissing once again. It was gentle
and had a loving quality that deserved so much more of an opportunity than
it had been given. It was over quickly, but when Gabi drew back, Charlotte
kept her eyes closed for several seconds.

"If you ever come to Berlin again," came a whisper in her ear, "Make sure
you find me."

And with that, she was gone.

Charlotte surfaced to a scene of utter destruction. Most of the
Kurfurstendamm had been flattened and was surrounded by a halo of firelight
and smoke. Like most of the other buildings in the street, her apartment
was uninhabitable. If ever there was a good time to be leaving the city it
was now. She took one last look back before starting her journey -- enough
for her to salvage some hope from the rubble and pray that someday soon
she'd relive her adventures with the girl next door.